


Something Done

by kscribbles



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angsty Schmoop, Episode Tag, Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:57:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She could never stand to see the Doctor in pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Done

**Author's Note:**

> An old school, soon after JE, bit of angst, a bit of fluff. In bed(s). Partly inspired by lida_star_cecils picture prompt posted at the lj community doctor_rose_fix's [Summer fixathon](http://doctor-rose-fix.livejournal.com/195335.html). Thanks to [nocookiesjustbooks](http://www.whofic.com/viewuser.php?uid=12104) for another superquick beta. Written in 2011.

  
She hadn’t been sleeping long when a shout woke her. She wasn’t sure what the Doctor had yelled from his hotel bed a few feet from her own, but she thought it might have been her name.

And then it came again, in the dark. A panicked whisper.

“Rose!”

She heard fumbling, and then a lamp switched on, the harsh light illuminating his pale chest that heaved for breath. He was sitting bolt upright in bed and looked nothing if not… frightened.

“I’m here,” she said.

“You are?” He peered at her suspiciously, as if he didn’t believe his eyes. “You are,” he said, and relaxed a fraction. “You are,” he repeated, like he was reassuring himself. “I thought…” He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighed. “I thought it might have all been a dream.”

“No, it was real,” she said, trying to sound both soothing and retain some… protective distance. She’d kissed him, but she still wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to relate to him. “We’re definitely in Norway. In a hotel. Mum’s in a room across the hall. You do… remember?” Because how did she know how a biological metacrisis worked? Maybe he’d forget things.

“I remember.” He sounded as if he was vaguely offended at the suggestion he might not. “And even if I didn’t, I–” He broke off and his face twisted as he put a hand on his chest.

She sat up, concern for him overriding her own conflicted emotions. “What is it?”

“It _hurts_.”

“Your… chest hurts?” Saying the words hurt her _own_. She remembered him–the other him–in the street, shot by a Dalek, dying… Still grinning at her, so happy to see her.

“Having one heart hurts,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said lamely.

“Yeah.” They stared at each other for a few moments before he switched off the light and lay back down, seeming resigned.

She settled back down into her blankets as well, burrowing into the soft down, hoping that their comfort would calm her mind and lull her back into the numbness of sleep where she didn’t have to work out… anything. But she couldn’t relax. In the dimness, she could only see shadows, but she listened to him breathing across the room. He didn’t seem to be asleep either.

“Sorry,” he said after a few minutes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. I…” she groped for words, but nothing she could think of felt right. Finally she said, simply, “I’m sorry you’re hurting.” She cringed internally. She didn’t mean it to sound cold.

He sighed into the dark. “I expect it will only hurt until I get used to it. Nothing to be done for it.”

But there _was_ something to be done. A little something. And though she still might not understand her feelings, might not even really want to _think_ about them, she could never stand to see the Doctor in pain. She lifted the duvet that’d been wrapped around her. “Come here.”

There was a swift rustling, a creaking of the bed springs as he moved abruptly. But the silhouette of the Doctor stopped just as suddenly, sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Are–are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she said with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt. “’Course I am.”

He needed no further nudging. He hurried across the space between their beds, took the blanket from her hand, climbed over her body and settled beside her on his back. She was on her side, facing away from him and towards the bed he’d just vacated. Both of them were rigid, tense, and that didn’t serve any purpose at all. She turned over, trying to read his face in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “This must be really strange for you. I mean everything that happened. Not just… now.”

She could only nod, feeling even more overwhelmed than she had only moments ago. She’d wanted to offer him comfort when she’d asked him into her bed. Wanted to be there for him, if he _needed_ her, as the other Doctor had said. But quite suddenly, she wanted _his_ comfort, for him to wrap his arms around her and tell her it would all be okay. But she didn’t know how… didn’t know if she could ask that of him. If she should.

“I thought…” he went on, “…Earlier I thought it must have all been a dream, because I couldn’t believe I’d… well, woken up in the same room as you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her heart clenched and soared all at once. No matter what had happened on the beach, that the man she loved had left her without so much as a goodbye… This man, _this_ man, inches from her right now, _loved_ her.

“It didn’t seem possible,” he continued, his voice just a whisper. “Not after all this time.”

She made a noise like a croak or a whimper, but still couldn’t find her voice.

“Rose.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Can’t we just…. Can we do this properly?”

“Please,” she nodded, her voice bursting from her in a rush and still cracking with tears. They moved together, quickly and easily, closing the few inches between them. He wrapped himself around her, and it was like their bodies knew that _this_ was their rightful place.

His hands cradled her head against his chest, his chin coming to rest against her hair. She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent which was so much like what she remembered. And, surrounded by his warmth, something inside her eased. A cuddle wouldn’t fix everything or answer any of her million questions or tell her what the future would hold. But for now, it stemmed the tide of her racing thoughts, calmed her mind and soothed a little bit of the ache she’d carried since she’d stepped out of the TARDIS for the very last time.

Whatever else had happened, she was in the Doctor’s arms, and that… well, as much as she’d hoped, she’d never really believed this would happen again either.

“Do you think you can sleep now?” she asked, eventually, against his skin.

“Mmm,” he said affirmatively, already sounding sleepy. “You smell really nice.”

“Hotel shampoo.”

“No, besides that,” he insisted. “You. Smells like…”

He was dropping off, and surprisingly, she found she was as well. “Like what?” she mumbled.

He was quiet, breathing evened out, the rhythm of that and their two hearts beating together pulling her under.

And just before she finally succumbed to sleep, she felt the answer, exhaled across her hair.

“Like happiness.”

 

FIN  


(the [inspiring image](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/karenor/778151/283253/283253_original.png), if you're curious) 

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=42556>


End file.
